Worst Nightmare
by Lilwazzabug
Summary: The boys deal with one of the most famous legends ever and one of them gets caught in the crossfire.
1. Chapter 1

"Sweet dreams, babydoll." A mother kissed her daughter on the forehead and tucked her into bed. The little girl, of no more than 8 years old, smiled and snuggled down with her favorite stuffed animal. Her mother turned on a nightlight and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Later that night, the house was silent and dark. The clock in the hallway read 1:13 A.M. as it ticked away the minutes of the very early morning. What can only be described as a shapeless shadow slipped through a small opening of one of the windows. The young girl stirred as the old house made a creaking sound as it settled. She rolled over and opened her eyes; a dark, formless being stood at the end of her bed. The little girl stared, frozen with fear, as the shadow-like amorphous began to take the shape of something only her darkest nightmares had showed her before. The girl screamed, then all was silent.

Sam rolled over on an overly-firm, hotel mattress. He felt around the nightstand for his watch. Finally locating it, he learned that it was 7:23 A.M. Sam put the watch on his wrist and sat up, putting his legs over the side of the bed. He looked over at his brother's bed; Dean was sprawled over most of the mattress, his face buried in his pillow. Sam stood up quietly, careful not to wake his brother. Their last hunt had been particularly trying, and he knew that Dean needed the rest. Sam uplled on his jacket and jeans and went out the hotel-room door. He squinted at the sun as he walked towards the lobby.

"Morning, sir." greeted the woman behind the counter. Sam smiled back.

"Morning, may I have a newspaper, please?" Sam reached into his jean-pocket and took out 3 quarters, he exchanged them for the daily newspaper. After getting a cup of coffee, Sam went outside and to the Impala; he didn't feel like dealing with any questioning looks while he leafed through the obituaries. Sam leaned against the trunk of his brother's prized car and opened the newspaper, turning to the obits in the back. He read a few notices and shook his head at the irony of a 99 year old many dying in a tragic racing-bike accident. After looking through all the announcements, Sam closed the paper. His eyes fell upon a headline on the front page that he had not noticed before. "Children's Deaths Still A Mystery" the headline read. Sam read the article, folded the newpaper under his arms, and huried back to the hotel-room. Not bothering to be quiet anymore, Sam quickly opened the door and let it slam loudly behind him. Dean's head shot up, startled by the sudden noise.

"Oh, you better be holding coffee, Sammy." Dean turned his head and opened one eye sleepily. Sam sat down on the bed accross from Dean.

"I think I found something." Dean let his face fall back on his pillow.

"Good for you, Sherlock." His voice was muffled.

"Dean, I think it would be something for our next hunt." Dean breathed noisely into the pillow and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. Sam handed him the article.

"3 deaths have occured in the last week; all are young children, all in their beds and all of unknown causes." Dean gave Sam a puzzled look and snatched the coffee out of his hand. He sipped the coffee and studied the newspaper.

"It says that they all died with looks of terror on their faces?" said Dean after reading a few lines. Sam nodded.

"And the coroner said that it appeared as if they were scared to death." Dean gave another inquisitive look to Sam.

"I thought that was just an expression." Sam shrugged.

"What if it's not?" Dean let out a heavy sigh, tossed the newspaper on the floor and took a long drink of coffee.

"Well..." he said, rustling his hair a little. " We're gonna need to see those police files."


	2. Chapter 2

"So, you said you were investigatin the deaths of Alex Shuburt, Felicity Harris and Rachel Pildridge, detectives?" Dean nodded smugly.

"That's right." The man leading them to the file-room grimaced.

"Those cases give me the creeps." He opened the door to the room and motioned Sam and Dean through the door.

"Why's that?" asked Sam. The man walked over to a file cabinet and took out 3 files.

"See for yourself." He handed them to Sam. Sam opened one of the files. He tried to hide his shock as he looked at the pictures from the Felicity Harris case. The look on the deceased girl's face was one of the most chilling things Sam had ever seen; it looked like the victim died screaming. Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at the pictures with a similar expression on his face. The man who worked at the police-station nodded.

"What'd I tell ya?" Sam closed the file, looking slightly disgusted.

"And there was no sign of break in or anything?" he asked. The man shook his head.

"Nope, none." A women motioned to the man through a window in the file-room.

"Oh, please excuse me." Dean gave the man a quick smile and waited til he had left the room. He gave a low whistle.

"What the hell could have scared these kids so badly?" asked Sam, looking through the Alex Shuburt file. Dean shook his head.

"I don't know, but I'm guessing it ain't too pretty to look at." Sam gave him a look. Dean quickly changed the subject.

"Ok, so it looks like we have some more digging to do."

Back at the hotel Sam surfed through dozens of paranormal website, with no luck of finding anything matching what he was looking for, while Dean looked through their father's old journal. Sam exed out of another web page, leaned back in his chair and sighed in frustration.

"Find anything yet?"

Dean rubbed his chin. "Nada, you?"

Sam shook his head and clicked on another link. Dean closed the journal, tossed it on the bed next to him and stood up to walk around.

"We can't even dig up one scrap of information on this thing? I don't know, what if this is all one, big, freakish coincidence."

Sam sat up straight in his chair.

"Because it never is, I think I found what we are dealing with." Dean stopped pacing.

"What?" Sam read from the website. 

"Taking on the form of the person looking at its greatest fear, this creature has been known to kill just by sight alone, mostly young children. Probably because they scare more easily."

"Why does it kill in the first place?" asked Dean. Sam read more from the computer screen.

"Just for the hell of it, I guess." Dean raised his eyebrows.

"What's it called?" Sam looked at Dean and sighed as he spoke.

"The Boogeyman."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wasn't sure whether to be relieved that he knew what they were dealing with or to laugh and call Sam crazy...he went with the latter.

"C'mon man, that's one of the most famous horror stories ever and I've never heard that part of it." Sam shrugged.

"Me neither, but it fits, Dean. The victims are young children and they all died looking terrified; maybe they really were scared to death." Dean laughed a little and ran his hand through his hair.

"But the Boogeyman, Sam?"

"It's the only thing that we've found so far." Dean gave a defeated look.

"Ok fine, so how do we stop it?" Sam scanned over the web-page.

"It says that only when the Boogeyman has taken form can it be harmed in any way. Whatever weapon can hurt

the shape it has taken will then in turn do harm to the Boogeyman." Dean arched his eyebrows.

"That's it? It's THAT easy?" Sam nodded.

"The big question is, how do we find it?" Dean pointed over his shoulder.

"Should I check the closet?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's sarcastic comment.

"More children are going to die if we don't stop this, Dean." Dean looked disappointed that yet another one of his hilarious jokes had gone uncredited.

"Alright, so how do we track down this sucker?" Sam looked back at his trusty computer.

"It doesn't say, apparantly it's hard to pin down." Dean thought for a minute.

"You said it can kill children on sight, what about adults?" he asked finally.

"Uh..." Sam scanned the page for an answer. "It depends on how much the person is freaked out by what they see. It says that the boogeyman can mess with people's brains, causing mental cloudiness and loss of the ability to function properly." Sam made a face and looked at Dean.

"Killing innocent kids, depriving people of basic motor skills, the bastard sounds charming." Sam laughed a little.

"Yeah." His smile faded as he read on. "Oh my god..." Dean sat back down on his bed.

"What?"

"Dean, this has happened before." Dean moved to the side of the bed closest to Sam.

"When?" He looked at the computer screen over Sam's shoulder.

"Over the month of October in 1994, 16 children from the same neighborhood in Oklahoma died of unknown causes, each death occuring 2 days apart. And before that was Minnesota 1981, exact same story." Sam leaned back in his chair.

"Dean, this goes way back." Dean stared at the computer screen, eyebrows furrowed. Sam searched for articles coinciding with the years and dates he had just found. He took up the police files they had copied earlier and studied them. After awhile, he let ouf a short laugh and handed the papers to Dean.

"Dean, compare the times of death." Dean looked at the paper in his hands then looked at the laptop.

"1:13 A.M." he said quietly. Sam nodded.

"The dates are the same too, now look at the house numbers of the victim's homes." Dean looked over the 3 files in his hands, the house numbers were the same as the one's of the previous victims. Dean let out a breathe and tossed the papers aside.

"Ok so tonight is the 7th, what was the house number on the previous attacks?" Sam scrolled down.

"91."

"And this son of a b itch is doing this just for fun?" Dean sounded a little angry.

"I guess so, mabye just so the legend can live on." said Sam. Dean stood up.

"Like hell, that thing is going down tonight."

Dean looked at his watch.

"We've still got about 5 hours." Sam shut the laptop and got up out of his chair.

"How are we gonna get that family out of the house?" he asked. Dean shook his head.

"We're not, we have to make sure that the Boogeyman will be there." Sam was vaguely reminded of the year before when he and Dean had hunted the Strihga.

"So we're just going to dangle an innocent child in front of this thing and hope we get there before it can kill them?" Sam's voice was louder than normal. Dean took a gun out of a dufflebag and checked the chamber.

"What do you mean "Get there"? We'll be right outside the house." Sam walked quickly over to his brother.

"Dean, this thing kills in a little over a second-"

"Then I guess it's a good thing we're fast." Dean interrupted. "Look, I know it's risky, but you got any better ideas?" Sam rubbed the back of his head; he secretly admitted that the website he found had said that the Boogeyman almost always went after children and that the probability of it coming when he and Dean were in the house would be considerably less. After considering all this, Sam let out a deep breathe and agreed.

"Ok," he said. "I guess it is the only way." Dean nodded, looking a little relieved at Sam's concurrence to his plan.

"Well, we've got some time to kill so..." Sam nodded.

"Yeah, ok. I'll see if I can find any other information that might help us out." Dean winked at his brother and returned to gun to the bag.

"Good idea, Sammy." He dropped down on his bed and closed his eyes. "Wake me up when it's time to leave." Sam laughed a little, shook his head and began searching through websites again.


	4. Chapter 4

The clock in the Impala read 1:07 A.M. as Sam and Dean sat outside 91 W. Olivetree Drive. Dean's EMF meter sat at the ready on the seat between him and Sam.

"What are we packing?" asked Sam, eyeing the overstuffed dufflebag at his feet. Dean looked down at the bag, too.

"Everything, who knows what shape this freak is gonna take." Sam nodded and looked over at the dark house accross the street. The brothers sat silently for awhile. Sam's voice cut through the silence finally.

"Remember not do let it get to you, Dean." Dean chuckled.

"Yeah right."

Sam looked at him gravely. "I'm serious, you remember what it said about the Boogeyman."

Dean smirked. "I can't even hear the damn thing's name without laughing much less be bothered by it."

"Regardless, just be careful," urged Sam.

Dean laughed again and looked out the window."Yeah yeah, you too."

Sam looked at his brother for a few seconds then looked up at the house. This time, something caught his attention. A shadowy fog floated over the roof of the house and up to one of the windows. Before Sam could point it out to Dean, the EMF meter between them hummed to life and flashed it's red lights. Dean looked at the clock: 1:12 A.M. He quickly looked at Sam and jumped out of the car. Sam followed suit, throwing the dufflebag over his shoulder as he ran up the steps to house number 91. Dean slammed his booted foot against the front door, completely throwing it off it's hinges. He and Sam got to the foot of the stairs when they heard a child scream. They ran up the stairs and into the room the scream was coming from. A little girl sat up in her bed, terror-stricken by a creature not seen in anything other than one's worst nightmares. Sam quickly ran over and put his hand over the young girl's eyes. 

"It's ok." he whispered. He picked up the young girl, hiding her face in his jacket. Dean was already searching through the dufflebag for an appropriate weapon to use. 

"Sam!" he yelled. "Get them outside!" Sam came accross a worried mother in the hallway. 

"What's going on!?" she shrieked. 

"It's alright, come with me." He took her hand and lead her down the stairs and out of the house. Dean chose a shotgun from the dufflebag. He cocked the gun as he stood up and pointed it straight at the being in front of him. The second his eyes fell upon the creature, it's shape changed completely. Dean stood frozen as he stared, gun raised, at Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sam's" eyes blazed evilly.

"Hey, Dean." His voice had a quality to it that was altogether unhuman, it sent chills through Dean.

"It looks like you couldn't save me after all." Sam took a few steps towards Dean; Dean held his ground.

"You know, I recall you promising that if you couldn't save me then..." Sam put his index finger to his temple and cocked his thumb, making a gun shot sound as he did so.

"So I guess the question is, can you do it? Would you kill your own brother?" Dean's body began to feel weak, the gun in his hand felt heavier than it had before. Sam continued to approach Dean.

"After all those years of protecting me, you've failed."

"I haven't failed, you're not him!" Dean blinked heavily, he felt like his brain was churning within his head. Sam stopped in his tracks and smirked.

"Aren't I?" He looked at Dean with his eyes, confusing him more and more with each passing second. Sam's expression then went from wicked to pleading.

"Please Dean! I can't control it any longer!..." Dean's outstretched arm started to shake, he really wasn't sure what was true any more.

"...I don't want to hurt you." Sam finished his act and his expression went back to one of malice. He laughed and took a few more steps.

"Pathetic, pleading for his own life...PATHETIC!" This last word seemed to echo throughout Dean's head. His breathing became shallow and the gun in his hand was now shaking quite noticably. Sam looked at the gun, smirked and knocked it out of Dean's hand effortlessly. Dean was thrown off balance and fell against a chair. Sam kicked him in the abdomen, knocking Dean to the floor. Dean coughed and tried to catch his breathe, his entire body felt like lead. Sam looked down at Dean and nudged his leg with his foot. He walked slowly over to the dufflebag a few feet away and pulled out a knife. Dean's heart raced; he tried to move his arms, his legs, anything, but could not. Sam bent down, holding the knife very close to Dean's face. He ran the blade against Dean's cheek, leaving a line of blood. Dean only managed to make a small sound of an indication of pain in the back of his throat.

"I have been wanting to do this for a very, very long time." Sam's eyes blazed as he raised the knife over Dean's chest.

"Hey!" A voice from behind "Sam" stopped him. He turned to look down the barrel of a gun. Sam pulled the trigger and a shot echoed throughout the room. Before the blood could splatter over anything, it turned into shadow and disappeared. Sam dropped the gun and ran over to Dean, kneeling down next to him.

"Dean, you alright?" Dean didn't respond. Sam realized what was wrong.

"Blink if you're ok." Dean did so with a little difficulty. Sam let out a breathe of relief and took hold of Dean's jacket, pulling him to a sitting position.

"Can you move at all?" Dean felt some sensation coming back to his body, but still couldn't imagine trying to walk.

"No." he managed to say in a little more than a hoarse whisper. Sam nodded.

"Ok." he said, letting out another breathe. Sam put his hands under Dean's arms and slowly managed to get him to his feet. Dean fell heavily against the wall right next to him.

"Son of a bitch." he mumbled. Sam put Dean's arm over his shoulder and supported him as he attempted to walk them both out of the room. They finally made into the hallway and to the top of the stairs. Sam stopped, looking down the steps skeptically.

"Uh, let's take a break, huh?" Dean nodded a little. Sam spotted a chair close by and helped Dean onto it. Dean looked gratefully up at Sam but remained silent. Sam stood there awkwardly, very aware that he had just shot "himself" in the head. He rubbed the back of his neck and stood quietly for awhile. Finally he decided to say something.

"So, that uh.."

"Don't, Sammy" Dean interrupted, staring down at the floor. Sam looked at his brother sadly and, as requested, remained silent.

"You saved my life." said Dean, looking up after awhile. Sam smiled faintly and nodded.

"Thank you." Dean added.

"You're welcome," said Sam softly. Dean lifted his hand and wiped the line of blood of his cheek. He looked at the color it made his fingers with disgust. He then smiled faintly, looking at Sam.

"That'd better not leave a scar." Sam laughed, relieved by the joke of vanity. Dean put his hands firmly on the arms of the chair and pushed himself up. Almost all feeling had returned to him and he felt confident enough to try walking. He stood for a few seconds, getting used to standing again, and nodded shortly.

"Ok, let's get the hell out of here." Sam followed Dean closely, keeping an eye on his stability. They made it down the stairs and out of the house. The mother was still holding her child tightly, looking extremely confused.

"Thank you, both of you." She seemed unsure of what she was thanking them for, but her gratitude was sincere nontheless.

There was complete silence from both brothers as Sam drove back to the hotel. When they reached their destination, Sam unlocked the hotel-room door. Dean stumbled in and immedietely fell onto his bed. 

"I don't think a bed has ever looked more inviting." His voice was again muffled by a pillow.

"Oh.." Dean raised his head.

"..Except for maybe that time in Ohio with that red-head." Dean chuckled and grinned. Sam laughed and shook his head. He knew that Dean wasn't really in THAT good of a mood, but it made Sam feel better to know that he was trying so hard to seem like he was...for him.


End file.
